


i don't decorate my house for others

by Nestra



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Episode: s06e13 Start Spreading the News, Interior Decorating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/pseuds/Nestra
Summary: He needs room dimensions so he can start considering layouts, though the more he thinks about it, the more crowded his mind feels. Maybe Patrick was right, and this should wait until after the wedding.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 33
Kudos: 146





	i don't decorate my house for others

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to grit kitty for beta and title help.

Patrick explains to him that officially offering to buy a house takes more than a phone call. It involves several steps, all of them with paperwork and signatures and other boring formalities. But this is where Patrick excels, so David relaxes on the couch as Patrick calls Ray and fills him in on their home purchasing plans.

Finally, a home. A place with actual rooms and at least one decent closet. In fact, they could turn that small third bedroom into a walk-in, with a whole wall dedicated to shoes. And a vanity with a well-lighted mirror. And adjustable shelves. And glass-fronted doors with brushed nickel hardware. And a chandelier.

David grabs his phone and makes a few notes about his future closet. Matte black on the doors instead of nickel. He needs room dimensions so he can start considering layouts, though the more he thinks about it, the more crowded his mind feels. Maybe Patrick was right, and this should wait until after the wedding.

Patrick sets his phone down on his desk. "That only took three times as long as it should have, so I'd say that was a pretty successful conversation."

"You didn't invite him to the wedding, did you?"

"He has to be at the wedding, David," Patrick says patiently. "He's taking the pictures."

"I agreed to that under duress," David reminds him as he holds a hand out to Patrick. Across the room is too far away.

"What duress were you under?"

"I don't remember, exactly. I think you were kissing me."

"Oh, really?" Patrick murmurs as he settles on the couch and presses his smiling lips to David's. David can't help but shiver—they're so close, now. So close to happily ever after.

Patrick pulls back a few moments later, lifting David's hand to his mouth and kissing it. "What made you change your mind about New York?"

"Well, it turns out that a lot of stuff happened today, and Alexis is the only one going to New York."

"Wait, what?" Patrick hitches a knee on the couch and turns to face David.

David nods. "Stevie's staying here, although she'll be doing a lot of traveling. And my mother—they've asked her to join the Sunset Bay reboot after all."

"Wow, that's great."

"Since they film in Los Angeles, Dad's going to go there with her, instead of having a cross-country relationship." David's relieved—his parents have done long-distance before, and his mother is still not welcome in Uzbekistan.

"Alexis is going to New York by herself?" Patrick asks.

"Yeah," David says, swallowing against the tears that want to well up. "She'll be fine." He'll miss her, he knows, but it won't be anything like the sick panic that used to grip him when she jetted off to Bali or Montenegro or the Seychelles. And that's good, but it hurts, too, like a bruise hurts when you press on it to make sure it's still there.

"She'll be fine," Patrick repeats. He can probably tell David's a little emotional. More emotional than usual. He reaches out and rests a comforting hand on David's knee, and David wants to just curl up and let Patrick hold him, no matter how fast things are changing around them.

No. He hasn't finished saying what Patrick needs to know.

"That is not why I changed my mind. I mean, it's not the only reason I changed my mind. Stevie and I had a talk, and she pointed some things out to me. And she made me really think about what I wanted."

Before Patrick can move his hand, David grabs it and enfolds it in his.

"New York is where everything collapsed. I thought I had a life there, with friends and a career and a place in New York's high society. And then it turned out that none of it was real. And I thought that it meant I wasn't real either. My life was just a cover-up, and underneath it was a shallow, damaged, unimportant person."

"David—" He tries to resist, but Patrick tugs him closer and puts his arm around David. "You were never that person."

"I know. But I wanted to go back there and prove it, and make everyone admit that they were _wrong_ about me." His voice shakes a little, but he gets through it.

Patrick rubs his back, the same soothing strokes he uses when David finds a gray hair or watches the end of Love Story. David clings to his fantasy for a few more seconds: walking into a club and being greeted by cheers and hugs, delivering the perfect scathing insult to an ex-lover now desperate for his attention.

Then he takes a deep breath and lets it go. All of it. He feels Patrick press a kiss to the crown of his head, and he nestles his head more firmly against Patrick's shoulder.

"Stevie basically called me an idiot for wanting to leave behind what you and I have here," David says. "Why didn't you tell me that you didn't want to move to New York?"

"You were so excited," Patrick says, with a shrug that displaces David's head. "I didn't want to take that away from you, if it was what you really wanted."

"Okay, but—" He sits upright and leans back against the couch. "You can't just...give in to whatever I say I want. That's how we ended up registered for twelve Waterford stemless wine glasses. And a Vespa."

"No one is going to buy you that Vespa, David."

"You don't know that! And that's not my point!" He pauses, trying to figure out the best way to phrase what he's about to say. "It's just...there have been times in the past when you avoided talking about something important."

Patrick's face loses its teasing expression, like David can see a door about to slam shut. But after a moment, he nods slowly, and the nervous clench of tension in David's stomach eases. "You're right, I have done that."

"I know I need to be better at asking what you want, but I also need you to tell me," David says. "Speak up for yourself."

Patrick rubs his hand through his hair. "This wasn't like that, David. It's not like there's only one place in the world where we could ever be happy. We probably would have been fine in New York. And if we weren't, it didn't have to be forever."

"But we didn't even talk about it! And that's my fault." Patrick shakes his head, so David amends it. "Mostly my fault."

"You're right," Patrick says. "You need to be more...considerate, and I need to push back when you make decisions for both of us."

"Otherwise, I risk turning into my mother, and neither of us wants that," David says.

Patrick laughs and pulls his arm again until he's sprawled over Patrick's chest, his heartbeat sounding in David's ear. "I'm prepared for the possibility."

He looks at items scattered around Patrick's apartment, all the things they picked out together. The pictures hanging above the bed, the curtains so carefully coordinated with the couch and the bedspread—he tries to envision them in their new house.

"The bedspread is looking a little shabby," David says.

"Maybe we should get a new one, to celebrate." The hum of Patrick's voice relaxes David even more. He wants to stay where he is forever.

"Hmm, maybe," David considers it for a moment. They could get something in blue, change the whole color scheme. "Isn't the closet going to be expensive?"

"What closet?"

"Don't worry," David says. "We'll talk about it later."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from part of a poem by Amanda Lovelace:
> 
> i don't  
> wear makeup for others  
> the same way  
> i don't
> 
> decorate  
> my house for others.  
> this is my  
> home
> 
> &  
> everything i do  
> is for  
> me.


End file.
